


It's not fair.

by Blank_Ideas



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Fire, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23738563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blank_Ideas/pseuds/Blank_Ideas
Summary: Based on the popular idea that Martin will set fire to the archives and that Jon is the archives.Have fun
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 8
Kudos: 60





	It's not fair.

It was finished. It was done. The ordeal was over.

Around his feet lay piles of ashes born of the many books and files that had populated the once towering shelves, some scraps still remained alongside grizzled leather binds and heat warped filing cabinets that now twisted and crumpled- with the contents they treasured untouchable.

Overhead he could hear the wooden rafters, hear them groan and squeak as they supported the heavy weight of the roof that now crumbled inwards. They would bow soon, pull forward and drag the upper floors downwards with them. It would be a wreckage.

A foul smelling heap of chipped bricks and ash, left to rot with its colourful murals shattered and the decorative plaques and paintings erased for no one to recognise.

It would be a wreckage and that was good.

Briefly Martin remembered entering this building the first time, when it was so solemn and so quiet, as if basking in the majesty of pristine walls and well preserved wooden floors. He remembered sitting there, so stunned at the way the golden light was stained green through the window in Elias's office and how it pained itself to highlight and expose every hidden shadow and spotty dust particle. That had been years ago, a time away from all of this, when his main concern was a lack of qualifications and a mounting sensation of resentment from his mother. He still remembered the soft paper and how warm it had been under his fingertips as he slid it over the expanse of that dark wooden desk and the cooling sensation as a contract was settled in its place. He hadn't hesitated to sign it.

Maybe he should have.

Maybe none of this would have happened if he had not been there.

Maybe this was his fault.

Martin sniffed, now feeling the urge to cry as he huddled forward on his hands and knees and embraced the volume of ashes that would cover him and quiet the striking red of his hair and maybe muffle his sobs. If he were lucky perhaps he could choke.

So badly did this thought strike him that Martin couldn't help himself as he hiccuped and whispered and strangled each of his own breathes, finding the words hard and lumpy in his throat. This wasn't fair. He knew it with all his body, felt the thought twist and ache in his core even as the ceiling's wails grew louder and the possibility of being crushed grew closer.

Waxy skin could be felt through the pile, a burnt body bathed in the ashe with such a familiar scent that Martin desperately wanted to push his nose into it and sample the comforting odour of tea and old books. Instead he pulled the body forward and held it tightly in his large hands. As he cradled the limp neck of the one he loved and caressed his cheeks with a feverish need for familiarity or simply comfort, perhaps just some belittling retort or softened sigh of affection. Just a well done.

A well done for doing as told even if it had been painstakingly hard.

His hands trembled as he held Jon's face.

Jon's face was blemished, not particularly attractive with it's hard lines and rippling scars, though softened by the soothing nothingness of death- Martin would not lie and say he was the most handsome man he'd ever seen. Martin treasured him for other reasons though, his intelligence and stubbornness, his passion and for that soft, soft smile he'd presented Martin on his first day of the job before Martin had even spoken and screwed things up. He remembered that smile well, loved it as much as any other smile he got from Jon because while rare and infrequent, often a struggle to receive, they were filled with so much affection that Martin felt his heart swell when he saw them and all his anxieties, all his problems melted away. With Jon's smile and patient guiding hands, all was right in the world.

But there was no smile. Sullen lips drawn into a line and brows dropping downwards as they'd finally relaxed, his face was relaxed yes, finally filled with a peace that Martin had never seen before- but there was no smile.

All was wrong in Martin's world and he was alone.


End file.
